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My baby recently turned five months old. Even though she is my third I think it took me this long to admit that, although I love being a mom, I don’t really enjoy being a mom to an infant.

It took me a long time to even write that sentence.

At four-five months I am really starting to enjoy every little part of my Holly: the giggles, the coos, smiles, movements and interactions. When she cries I pretty much know why and she’s starting to get on a schedule (sure it changes, but there is still structure to her day). My older kids have always loved her, but now they can “play” with her. Heck you can even give her a toy and watch her play with it.

The first three months? That’s a lot of around the clock worry and feedings with little immediate payoff. Heck, I remember just a few weeks ago walking around in around in my basement to get Holly to stop crying. Now, a little milk and a blankie and she’s calm (most of the times).

It got me thinking that although we love our kids (unconditionally) we do not always enjoy them.  Infancy is a lot work, but when they start to become toddlers it can be great.

Well, you know for the most part.  I remember quite vividly what 17-20 months looks and feels like and it’s not pleasant.  Whereas four year olds? Four your olds are where it is at.

Wherever I go people say “enjoy it, it goes by so fast.”  They are right.  In a few short months I’ll be sending my oldest to kindergarten and my youngest, my last baby, will start daycare.  Yet, it’s also ok to not enjoy it.  Sometimes you grin and bare and it get through to the part that you really like.  I am currently in a sweet spot and I hope it goes at a snail’s pace.

Where are you?

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